


The Lost Boys

by LoveTheCumberBatch



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Superwho, Superwholock, Wholock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveTheCumberBatch/pseuds/LoveTheCumberBatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Amy Pond finds herself in the middle of a good ole ghost hunt, the Winchesters get themselves tangled up in a deadly trap that seems too much like a fairytale. With the help of the 221B boys, the Doctor, and the Winchesters, Amy and the boys face a vengeful demon that has an all too familiar face. Early Amy w/o Rory; s5 Team Free Will; Sherlock post-Riechenbach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lost Boys

The twilight chill of the Michigan night seeped through the Winchesters' jackets, making every silent minute seem drawn out in the dewy morning. It was a late night for a hunt, the promise of the motel bed becoming more enticing after the hours of scouting. Together, the Winchesters were laying low in a patch of woods that sat opposite of a small house, waiting for their opportunity to finish their job. Off in the distance under the pooling brightness of a farmlight, stood a tall white-walled farmhouse, captivating the attentions of the Winchesters.

Sam yawned, taking his hand off his gun to cover his mouth. "Hey," he whispered. Dean looked away from the field as Sam tapped his wrist for the time. Checking his watch, Dean signaled 2:54. Nodding, Sam brought his gaze back to the field they had been watching for the last four hours. The house looked strange standing alone off the dirt road, not having a barn or even a garage to characterize it. Instead of being used for a farm, it had been renovated into the town's museum, which currently housed the one object a vengeful ghost clung onto.

"Hey." Sam's eyes sprung open when Dean nudged his arm, the grip on his gun tightening automatically. "The porchlight." Focusing ahead, Sam watched the light flicker then burn out. He looked back to Dean for the go ahead, recognizing the spirit must be nearby. Dean nodded, beginning to get up from his crouching position and push away the branch in front of him.

A shout broke the air, followed by a hard thud in the field between where the Winchesters were and the farmhouse. Sam tensed, his knuckles turning white around his gun before he turned to Dean, confused.

"What was that?" Sam mouthed.

Before Dean could shrug in response, a bright red head rose from the field. Dean waved for Sam to look, trying to make sense of what they were seeing.

"Is that a girl?" Dean murmured dumbfounded, moving the branch to get a better look. Sam shook his head, not sure what he was seeing either.

"Hello?" a woman's voice called hesitantly. She began to rise to her feet shakily, looking between the patch of woods to the farmhouse. "Is someone there?"

"Can she see us?" Sam asked.

"No, but," Dean blinked confusedly at Sam, "how'd she get there?"

The girl spun towards the woods then, making them freeze. "Hello?" she asked again in a quieter tone. "If someone's there…" She began to take dizzy steps towards them, making Sam suppose she wasn't sober. Behind her, the farmlight had begun to flicker, the only light source around besides the weak moonlight. Turning from the woods, the girl looked to the farmhouse. Looking back to the woods briefly, she started walking over to the house. The closer she got to the farmhouse the more the farmlight flickered.

"Oh great," Dean whispered. "Don't think old Mrs. Erler likes trespassers."

"We gotta get her outta here," Sam said. "Old Mrs. Erler might get mad enough to attack her."

Before they could set a foot out of the woods, the girl gave a shriek, tumbling backwards in the grass. Halfway across the field, the girl stared up at the wispy silhouette of the evil spirit, a vengeful farmer's widow. The farmlight flickered out in front of them, the field and the farmhouse quickly thrown into shadows.

Dean grimaced, starting at a jog to where the ghost and the girl were. "Hey. Hey lady!"

"A little help!" she yelled back. Dimly, Sam watched the spirit raise her arm slowly at the girl, about to attack.

Sam switched on his flashlight while running, flicking the beam back and forth to find her. "There," he pointed for Dean.

"Lady, duck!" In the thin streak of Sam's flashlight, the redhead in the grass ducked low. Dean stopped and shoved the butt of the sawed-off into his shoulder and shot at the spirit. Its figure vanished as the salt round struck. Dean lowered his gun slightly, searching ahead for the girl in the field.

"Hey, are you okay?" Sam ran ahead, bending down next to her. Shining the flashlight by her, he could see she was fairly young, no older than twenty-one. Her eyes were wide and panicked looking up at him.

"Well, I almost got it from a…ghost," she said breathlessly. "Was that really a ghost?"

"Yeah," Dean answered, standing over them, "and we're gonna kill it."

The girl gave him a strange look then turned to Sam for some form of confirmation. "You're going to kill it?"

"C'mon," Sam stood up and offered his hand to her. She took it, looking up at his extremely tall figure once on her feet. "We've gotta get you outta here."

"Sam!" Dean barked, raising his rifle. Sam pressed the girl to the side, the crack of another shot ringing through the field.

"We've gotta get that quilt," Sam said hurriedly to his brother, loading another salt round.

"I'll get into the house and grab it. You watch little miss sunshine here. Lady," Dean stared her down sternly, "You stay here with him. He'll keep you alive, 'kay? So don't try anything stupid." Sam rolled his eyes in the dark as she nodded nervously at him. Dean gave a quick, 'You-got-my-back?' look to Sam which he nodded to shortly in response.

"Is he always that rude?" the girl grumbled behind Sam, watching Dean walk off towards the farmhouse.

Sam scoffed, scanning the field for the vengeful farmer's widow. "Not usually." Glancing back at her for a moment, he was quietly surprised at how well she was handling being thrown in the middle of a hunt. "Hey, hold this, would you?" From his left hand he handed her the flashlight. "Just follow where I'm going." She nodded, holding the flashlight with steady hands. "What's your name?"

"Amy," she said, focusing on the dark corners that the flashlight couldn't reach. "So…where exactly are we? Some weird ghost hunting grounds?"

Sam and Amy spun around quickly when a loud snap came from behind them. With his gun pointed rigidly ahead, he answered in a whisper, "Not exactly." He nudged the end of the rifle to the side. "Point it over there." Amy cursed the light to the left where Sam directed. At his side he heard Amy's breath falter then finally puff out in a icy cloud. She turned slightly to look over her shoulder. She gasped.

"There!" Amy shouted.

Sam turned and shot, the ghost's shrieking face no more than six feet away from them. "You good?" he asked, loading another bullet, counting in his head how many he had left.

"Yeah," Amy said, raising the flashlight with a slightly shaky hand. In the distance, the crack of Dean breaking the front door of the farmhouse resonated. "How long do we have to wait here?"

Hearing the nervous edge in her voice, Sam said, "He won't be long. Another five minutes, I'd bet." Something shifted just outside of the light of the flashlight. "You see that?"

"Yeah. It's there now." Amy moved the flashlight around, the pale figure of the spirit illuminated in the light. Before they could breathe, it rushed toward them in a cold wind. Sam's finger faltered on the trigger for a moment, giving the ghost enough time to pull the gun out of his hands. Grinning with her hollow eyes, she lifted her hand to him, jerking Sam several yards before he hit the ground. Sam's head thudded against the ground, making his head throb painfully once he tried to raise it. Opening his eyes, he tried focusing beyond the stars in his eyes. He found Amy, watching as she stumbled backwards while the spirit stalked closer. Her eyes kept darting between it and the ground where the gun lay.

"Come on," Sam heard her say with a promising amount of courage. "Just a little closer. Then you can…walk through me or, whatever ghosts do." Sam squinted his eyes at the ache on the side of his head, unsure what she was doing. The flashlight remained steady in her hand as she positioned herself so the house was to her back. As the spirit came closer to Amy, he realized what she was doing. Directly behind the spirit the sawed off rifle sat; she was going to dive for the gun.

Amy stopped walking backwards, standing right where she wanted to be. The spirit was standing no more than two feet away from her. Lifting himself on his elbow, Sam watched this crazy girl with anxious eyes.

Between gritted teeth, the evil spirit gave a shriek and reached for her red-head. Amy ducked, letting go of the flashlight and diving into the ghost's translucent figure, landing on top of the gun. "You little whore!" the farmer's widow cawed at her. It turned around, standing over Amy. This girl was quick though, shoving the butt of the gun into her shoulder and pointing up at it. Not waiting for what else the ghost had to say, she pulled the trigger hard.

"Whoa," he said under his breath, more than a little amazed by this Amy. Sam could only figure now that this girl must be a hunter by how easily she reacted. Any other girl who could drop out of the sky like that would be terrified of anything that ran towards them. This girl was a pretty good exception to that as far as he could figure.

"Are you okay?" she called out to him, getting up on her feet and walking towards him.

"Yeah, I'm good," he grimaced, lifting himself up. "You're a pretty good shot. Or at least a risky one."

She shrugged. "Don't really want to be ghost bait. Here, I think you're better with this, anyway."

Just as he was about to take the rifle, Sam glanced over her shoulder, alarmed. "Hey, hey behind you!" Not thinking, she turned around, the gun suddenly clumsy in her hands. Sam snatched it quickly, not giving an extra thought to shooting this thing. By the time Sam was able to put his finger on the trigger it was in too close of range, grabbing a handful of Amy's hair and pulling her towards the ground. Amy shouted painfully, trying to push away the spirit's intangible hands.

"Do something!" she yelled up at Sam. Pulling his arm back, Sam hefted the gun down onto the spirit, the iron barrel making it pull away and disappear. Amy landed hard on her knees, taking in a gulp of air. "Oh my God."

"Come on, we gotta keep a look out," Sam tried to encourage her. He helped Amy up, pulling her to her feet by her shoulders. "Grab the flashlight."

"Think it's been more than five minutes for him," she winced, rubbing her head.

He agreed. They couldn't hold this nasty, old ghost much longer that wasn't difficult to see. Sam checked the gun for how many salt rounds were left, discouraged to only see two. Not sure where the farmhouse was exactly in the dark, Sam turned to his right only slightly. "Hey Dean! Come on, hurry up!"

Sam couldn't make out what Dean yelled back, but guessed it wasn't something too encouraging. A rush of cold air hit his face, telling him the ghost was nearby. "Do you see it?" he murmured to Amy. He followed the light she cursed around the field, not seeing anything. To the side of them the woods began to rattle violently with an unnatural wind.

Amy brought the light darting over to the trees. "Over there," she directed. Sam didn't take a chance to wait around and see for himself, aiming in the direction she pointed and shot. He lowered the rifle, waiting for the moment this stupid spirit would burn up for good. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he saw something move. Amy gasped, pointing the flashlight in the opposite direction of the woods. In the beam, there stood the widow's angry spirit. "Maybe not," she confessed uneasily.

Sam raised the rifle and shot, but the spirit had moved before the round hit it. "Great," he said under his breath. The flashlight skimmed back and forth, unable to find the spirit.

"What? Please tell me you aren't being sarcastic."

"I'm out of salt rounds." Sam reached for the girl's arm. "Here, get behind me."

"What are we gonna do, just wait here? What about your friend?" The panic had begun to rise in her voice. "What are we gonna do?"

"Just stay behind me," he said much more calmly than he actually felt. Sam heard her swallow hard behind him. Amy continued to scan across the field, not for the sake of finding the spirit, but, as Sam guessed, as a hope it couldn't be found and had left.

"The light," she stumbled to say, "It's going out." The thin beam the flashlight made had begun to flicker slowly.

"Hey Dean!" Sam shouted.

"What's it gonna do to us?" she whispered. Sam watched the light, the breaks in the beam becoming longer and longer.

"We'll be okay."

The flashlight gave one lasting flicker, the bulb finally snuffed by the spirit.

"The light-"

"Shhh," he whispered. Sam could only make out the weak outlines of the blades of grass around them, the farmhouse and the woods not even visible in the cloudy twilight. Their breaths were silent so not to break the pristine quiet that was thrown over the field. He had no idea where or when this spirit could attack. Behind Sam, he felt the girl reach a hand for his arm, grasping it tightly.

Just as the stillness seemed almost unbearable, a piercing scream broke the silence. The hand on Sam's arm clutched, his head snapping to the side where a burning light illuminated the field. No more then a few feet from Sam and Amy, the spirit of the farmer's widow coursed with fire. Her arms flew into the air as she faded away, making Sam breath easier.

"Oh my God," he breathed, looking back to the petrified girl with a relieved smile. "It's gone now." She looked up to him with wide doe eyes, not quite believing him. "See, she disintegrated."

"Wait…that was her?" She stared dumbfounded between Sam and where the spirit burned up. "You're sure?"

He nodded back. "Yeah, we're safe. Um…" Sam glanced down to her clutching hands on his biceps, "You mind?" He didn't mean to say it meanlike, being more embarrassed by her grip.

"Oh, right." She let go right away, rubbing the sweat on her palms onto her pant legs. "Sorry." Sam gave her an assuring smile, looking up from her face to the massive tangle of ginger hair above.

"Is your head okay? Looked like she was trying to rip it all out for a second there," he asked.

Amy rubbed her head, combing her fingers through the mess. "Nothing some pain killers can't fix. I'm okay." Her bright eyes squinted up at him, making Sam feel like he was being read like a book. "You took quite a tumble there, too. How's your head?"

Sam bent down to wipe the as much of the grass stains off his pants, his head becoming dizzy as he stood back up. "Throbbing," Sam said honestly. He tucked the rifle under his arm, starting over towards the farmhouse. Sam could see the small fire Dean had made of the quilt just in front of the porch. He flinched when he pulled his fingers through his hair. "Geez it feels like a goose egg."

"Let me see." Amy stopped him, making him bend down without saying hardly a command. He was startled to see this girl, who he couldn't even remember her name, start running her fingers into his hair. When her fingers hit the goose egg, he flinched again, making her frown. "Yeah, I'd say you're gonna need a little more than some pain killers for that."

"There's ice in the cooler, should help." Sam stood up straight and looked down on this girl with the fiery ginger hair. They started walking again to the farmhouse, quiet for a moment. Sam sighed, knowing he was going to have to ask sometime or another. "Sorry, but…what was your name again?"

Her shoulders rose a little higher as she looked up at him. "Amy. Amy Pond."


End file.
